Concrete Angel: Sage Grey
by Tributesdiaries1
Summary: Abused throughout her childhood, Sage is sick of life and figures the only way out is the Hunger Games. She could finally get rid of her mother and die under the hands of another. But once she gets to the Capital, she finds out that not everyone is out to get her, and learns to appreciate how beautiful life can be, but is it too late to start over?
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! This is my first fanfic so please enjoy! The first few parts are a little explainy but I promise the whole story is really full of action! I've put this story on Instagram and everyone seemed to like it so I hope you do too! Please leave comments I love reading them whether good or bad:)**

I'm worthless, and all I'll ever be is worthless. It has been etched into my brain for years and probably for the rest of my life. The sad part is, I'm starting to believe it. I am awakened to the sound of my mother cussing and smashing things of glass in the other room. It makes sense, since its the 4 year anniversary of this family's demise. Every time I hear her screech out my name I feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand. After all, I am to blame for my mother's fury. It's my fault. I take a long deep breath in to calm my troubled nerves and brace myself for the worst.

Like a hurricane, my mother swings open the wooden door and her wild red eyes dart aimlessly around the nearly empty room.  
She looks awful. It's hard to believe that at one point of her life, my mother was beautiful, with think long blonde hair, a petite figure, and she was one of those people that one could never get angry because she was so sweet. But all of that changed about 6 or 7 years ago, when father left. Without a provider, she was left to do everything. Sure, the district helped as much as they could, but raising two children alone required a job and income.

Father's departure devastated my mother. I remember the day perfectly. I was locked up in my room and I had my ear pressed hard against the cold wooden door, drowning in my tears. Each sentence was broken up into fragments that I have yet to decipher but I did hear my name thrown around a few times. That's when I concentrated harder but with no luck. I heard a final door slam which made me jump out of my skin. Then silence. But it didn't last long. My mother was in hysterics. A lot like how she is on reaping days now.

Her flowing locks turned into stringy, dull, lifeless hair. Her body had become a hollow bony shell from the lack of food we had in our house. Her glowing skin turned an ashen color. And her new wrinkles have aged her face far beyond her years. She petrified me. Especially on reaping day.  
My mother grabbed me by my stringy hair and threw me down on the cold wooden ground. "I hope you get picked so I can get you out of my life for good!" She spit at me. These words stung me a few years but I'm almost immune to their power now. I hear this every year. I just keep my saddened eyes fixed on theground.

Big mistake. I feel the sting of Mother's hand swipe across my delicate cheek and the shock sets in. "Look at me when I talk to you!" She screams pressing her nose up against mine. The smell of smoke and alcohol fill my nose as I'm surrounded by her retched breath. Close to tears I slowly lift my glassy eyes to look at her. I can see the blind rage all over her face. "I never want to see your face in this house again!" Her Her hand pushes my chest and my frail body collapses to the ground. I try to recover with out shedding a tear. "Here," she throws a dress, some shoes, and socks at me. "Put them on and get yourself to the reaping." I stare blankly at the clothes as I hear her footsteps disappear and the door slam shut behind her. It was now safe to let allow a few tears to escape.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi! This is the author just saying thanks for reading! and this is my first fanfic and I hope you enjoy! The whole thing is already written and if you have an instagram you can already read the whole thing under the username tribute_diaries1. Leave reviews:) And please tell me if chapters should be shorter or longer because I don't really know!**

My teary eyes were still fixed on the ground, unblinking and hard. I brushed my cool fingertips across the new red patch of skin that had just surfaced, and flinched at the pain.

"Pull yourself together." I whisper. "Or she'll be back soon."

I quickly lift myself from the ground and rub my eyes dry with the back of my hand. My eyes dart to the bright yellow dress that lie crumpled on the floor. I pick up the delicate fabric in awe at how new it was, without a rip or tear in sight. The only time that I really looked presentable was Reaping Day. I don't understand why though. Maybe so I don't look so hideous in front of the glamorous Capitol personal, but since when did Mother care about appearance?

It's puzzling but not my concern at the moment so without another thought, I pull off my tattered black shirt and shorts, and delicately slip on the dress. The fabric was soft, and warmed my chilly arms with it's long sleeves. I smoothed any wrinkles in the body of the dress with my fingers and walked over to the dusty old mirror to examine myself. The yellow fabric covered me down to my knees, and was a bit restricting but nonetheless, beautiful. It's sleeves covered me all the way up to my wrists, and were skin tight. Of course, to hid the tender bruises.

Years ago, my mother did take caution with where she hit me so it was easy to hide it, but as the years went on, she cared less and less to the point where she'd slap me in the face an hour before I have somewhere to go, and not give it a second thought.

I remember a year ago when there was a massive lump of a bruise sitting on my cheek from a hard smack to the face. No matter the amount of foundation my Mother globbed on my face, the discoloration shone through. I had missed too much school at that point from trips to the hospital, so my Mother had no choice but to send me off, and I remember the excitement that welled over me that day. I truly thought that she would be found out, and that I would finally be able to leave that house. But I was wrong. Throughout the whole day, every teacher turned a blind eye to my bruise and didn't even speak to me. Their reasons, to me, are stupid. Most of their faces were bewildered and stressed, like they had no clue what to do. I knew that they had premonitions before with the frequent hospital trips, but this should have cleared up any doubt in their minds. Do they just not want to get involved with a psychotic family? Well I guess it is because abuse isn't such a popular subject in District 7. But just because it isn't publicized as much as it was a few decades ago, doesn't mean it doesn't happen. Once the final bell rang, I was crushed and humiliated. Not only did the whole school now know of my secret, but nobody even cared.

Examining the rest of the dress, I noticed that the black collar of the dress came up high, all the way up to my neck to hid any blemishes. The dress was stunning, and I secretly loved reaping day for the reason of looking like a normal kid for a day. Though my lower half now looked presentable, my eyes met my face in the mirror and gasped at the reflection.

My hair is a ratty mess, unwashed and knotted. It was probably from scrubbing the entire house last night. It had gotten too late to bathe. My bleach blonde hair falls all the way down to my lower back. Mother maintains it for school so I don't look like a 'mutt' as she calls me. Getting the small comb through my hair was a challenge, but after about 10 minutes of nonstop pulling, I managed to get the comb smoothly through my hair. Dividing it into three strands, I braided the hair down to my side and tied the bottom of it with the worn yellow ribbon I used everyday.

Lastly I put on a faded golden ring, but not just any ring. The ring that I hid underneath a loose floor board in my room, that my mother has no idea I have. The ring that I only wear on reapings, but admire in silence at home. The ring that had once belonged to my sister.

There's the reason why my mother hates me. It's my sister, Rose. She was the first born, and was supposed to be the only born. For as long as I can remember, my parents favored Rose over me all the time. I was always considered the mistake. Someone that just wasn't supposed to happen.

I remember once my mother had told me once that while she was pregnant with me, she cried for weeks and actually tried to kill the fetus herself because she couldn't afford an abortion. But for a long time, I didn't think much of my parent's infatuation with Rose. I just thought it was because she was first born. But man, they loved Rose. But who wouldn't?

I remember her long silky brunette hair flowed down her back and landed in soft waves that gave off the fragrance of honey from her shampoo. Every time I leaned in for a hug I let the rich smell of honey flood my nose.

My earliest memory of my Mother's double standard was probably when I was around 5 years old. It was the first day of the month and we had both finished dinner, meaning that our monthly dessert of apple pie had come in.

"Sorry guys, we could only get one piece." Mother sighed, and both of our faces dropped.

"Here, Rose." Without even looking at me she placed the large piece of apple pie in front of Rose who happily began to eat.

"What about me?" I argued, angry at Mother for her unfairness.

"Sage, Rose is special. It's time that you learned that Rose always comes first." Mother explained calmly.

I remembered how odd that night was. It was as if the whole atmosphere of the house changed, and that suddenly, I didn't mean anything to them anymore, because I wasn't special.

Once I got old enough, about 8 or 9, they started telling me I didn't deserve things. Only perfect girls like Rose got toys, or food, or attention.

I used to cry myself to sleep every night fully convinced that I was born imperfect and that it would never change. The words of Mother played over and over again like a recording in my head

"Oh, Sage. Where did we go wrong with you? Why can't you be more like Rose?" Only Rose can get new clothes, only Rose deserves dinner tonight, only Rose has earned her toys today. I could never live up to Rose.

But as much as I wanted to hate Rose, I loved her more than anyone in the world. Some of my only happy memories are with Rose. A long time ago, when I was still young and naive, I remember she used to sneak into my room at dark when she heard my crying and tried her hardest to comfort me. She would wrap me into a blanket like a baby and let me rest my head on her shoulder as I cried. We would huddle together and she'd stay for hours just stroking my tangled hair and dry my never ending tears. My favorite nights, was when she would even sing me lullabies so quietly that not even mother could hear it, and tell me that things would get better for me one day. She promised she would make sure of it.

I knew my sister couldn't do mulch for me so I appreciated the little things that she could do for me. She gave me the only thing that I truly wanted. Someone to tell me they loved me and to accept me.


	3. Chapter 3

Everything changed once my very first reaping came around when I was 12, and my sister was 16. We tensely walked together, hand in hand, to the center of the district and waited in silence. Rose tried her hardest to calm me but I was shaking with fear.

"Sage, don't worry okay? I'll see you soon." Rose crouched down to my level and gave one of her assuring smiles that always made me feel better.

"Okay." I answered, still unsure but I tried to smile back.

Rose pulled me in and my little arms wrapped around her waist. I felt a lump form in my throat which I quickly tried to swallow down. The smell of honey filled my nose and I sniffed it in.

"You washed your hair this morning." I chimed still keeping my arms around her.

I heard Rose let out a chuckle as she pulled away.

"I know you love it." She smiled and stroked my straight hair behind my ears.

Then she dropped her gaze and went rummaging through her pocket. "Here, I've been saving this to give to you on your first reaping day, for good luck." She explained while holding something golden in her hands.

"For you." She smiled as she handed the ring to me.

"Wow, I love it!" I beamed slipping it on my index finger.

"Good." We both smiled at each other again and then were forced to part.

Once she was gone the panic set in again. I walked over to my section where the other nervous 12 year olds were sitting and took my seat to await my fate.

Our escort walked up to the front and began the ceremony. Once she walked over to the girl's bowl, my stomach nearly dropped. The white paper was folded in two and her long nails opened up the paper. She leaned into the microphone and read the name aloud. "Rose Grey".

Rose was picked. Out of the thousands sitting here today my sister was reaped. My throat began closing and I was already choking on my tears. Rose couldn't leave me alone. She was the only thing keeping this family together. Without Rose, it was only me and Mother, and the thought of what she would do without Rose around to defend me to me terrified me.

But then something completely unexpected happened. Breaking the silence, I saw my mother in the distance pushing through the sea of people over to where I was sitting. Her eyes were dripping with tears and red, and she leaned right into my face angrily. "VOLUNTEER FOR HER!" She screamed louder than I've ever heard before. I was immobilized with fear and disbelief that my mother would ever ask me to do such a thing. I stood there mouth open with tears falling from my eyes. Then she grabbed both my arms and firmly shook me to focus my attention. "Volunteer now! You know Rose comes first." I could hear the agony in her voice, which crushed me. I didn't want to disappoint Mother anymore than I have already, but I would surely die if I entered the arena. I kept my head down so I wouldn't have to face Mother's disappointment.

The only other sound that was heard was my sister crying up on the stage, and once my sister breaks down, I know that the future looks bleak. More than anything I wanted to run up on stage and hug my sister, but it was too late for that. Unless she could win, I'm on my own.

Peacekeepers had to actually rip Mother off of me and drag her away to calm her down. The whole thing felt like a nightmare or something out of a movie. It didn't feel real. And at that moment I knew that my mother truly hated me, and that she would want me dead if it meant her precious Rose would live.

We watched that year's Hunger Games together in the living room in a tense silence, praying for our own reasons that Rose would somehow win. But of course, it didn't happen. The girl from 1 pinned her down and slit her throat towards the end. Both of us stared at the TV teary eyed with disbelief. My mother finally cracked.

She turned to me and slapped me hard across the cheek with the back of her hand. I fell to the ground sobbing not knowing what just happened. My cheek stung and both of my hands covered my face with fear. " Shut up!" She spit, and I felt her boot kick me hard in the stomach. "This is all your fault! You killed Rose! You're a murderer!" I listened to her screams until I fell unconscious from the pain. When I awakened, all I saw was a bear room with just a blanket and 2 pairs of clothes to wear. My room had been emptied of everything. "This is your home now, worthless girls who kill their sister don't deserve anything."

This memory was played so vividly in my head like a recording. Whenever I thought of it, it sent shivers down my spine. In the midst of my silence, I heard footsteps on the cobblestone outside which shook me out of my trace.

Taking one more glance in the mirror, I evaluated myself quickly, slipped on my black buckled shoes and scurried out the door, avoiding Mother at any cost.

With each step, my anxiety level grew worse and worse as I slowly inched my way to the Justice Building for the Reaping. I had decided that this would be the year that I would finally do it. I would volunteer for the games. Clearly this sounds foolish for anyone from District 7 to do, but I had figured it all out in my head for years now.

I had asked myself a simple question of 'how would you like to die?' And I came to the conclusion that any death would be better than being beaten to death by my own Mother. And I've always viewed suicide as a coward's way out. Although, you could almost count volunteering for the Hunger Games as suicide if you are as frail and as weak as I am. Then at least I had saved a life through volunteering as well. So in some way I'm almost looked at as a hero. I just told myself anything to get myself to do it. No one will care if I die.

I followed the large stream of people walking in silence to the huge wooden stage set up in front of the cold metallic building. Balloons of every color were set up next to the podium to make it look more festive. Nearly a thousand folding chairs were set up in the audience divided into sections marked by age for the possible tributes. There were also a few gray chairs set up behind the podium for the past victors of District 7, one of which was Johanna Mason, this years mentor. The was a loud clicking of heels against the cobblestone that caught everyone's attention and to no one's surprise it was Cecilia Periwinkle, our district's escort. This year, she was sporting pink from head to toe and her hair was a wild mess of cotton candy colored curls. The dress she wore was a magenta corset and a baby pink ruffled bottom down to her knees. Her face was pale so to accent it, she added a bright red lip color to make her lips look full and colorful.

Cecilia tip toed up to the podium with pride and warmly welcomed everyone, and informed us that we would be starting soon, even though people, including me, were still in line to me identified. As soon as I got in the lengthy line, my nerves really started taking over. It's now or never I thought.

The seats were starting to fill up quickly in the 16 year old section. I quickly stepped over the people who were seated at the end of the aisle and found an empty seat in the center of the teens. I took my seat and kept my eyes fixed on the ground, losing myself in my thoughts. "Just do it.." I told myself. "You have to." Realizing that my hands were beginning to shake, I intertwined my fingers and anchored them to my lap.

"Welcome Everyone, to the 73rd Annual Hunger Games!" Cecilia boomed, and I nearly fell out of my seat hearing such a squeal of a voice.

"Well, I think you all know the drill by now, the Capitol has sent us a beautiful film to watch, so enjoy!" She beamed, grinning ear to ear. The large projection screen then came to life and the same old video began to play once again about the history of the games. I just tuned it out so I could mentally prepare myself.

Thoughts shot in and out of my head while thinking about my volunteering. I'm going to do it because I refuse to return to that house. I just can't. All I have to do is say the words, 'I volunteer.' then it will be all over. I kept trying to tell myself to calm my unhinged nerves, but nothing helped.

"Okay! Wasn't that lovely?" Cecilia cheered as the video came to a close. The time was drawing near now.

"Well, now it is time to pick one male and female tribute, and as you all know, ladies first!"

This is it! My shaky hand brushed up against my chest that began to tighten immensely. All I could feel was my booming heart jumping out of my chest. Maybe I can't do this. I started breathing heavily and broke out in a cold sweat. My freedom is so close, it's almost in my reach. Okay, I have to. Suddenly, I could feel myself slowly standing up by myself. "I Volunteer!" I croaked in the shakiest voice. Once standing, I stumbled back a bit feeling extremely light headed. "Just breath." I whispered. It's done, there's no going back.

I actually breathed a sigh of relieve and before embarrassment crept in, I bolted up to the stage as as fast as I could before anyone else had the chance to speak.

Once up there, I began to breath easier and looked into Cecilia's eyes who's expression turned very puzzled but she quickly composed herself and turned into the overly happy robot she was. "Well, this is quite a shock! Normally we would have you wait until we at least pick a name, but since you're already up here! What's your name, dear?" My name? I went blank and stared at the blank faces in the audience. I could see the girls, although confused I volunteered, breathed a sigh of relief for being safe for now one more year. The boys, still paralyzed with the fear of being picked, stared back at me with utter bewilderment and saddness. I stared back blankly at them trying to read their thoughts. Then it occurred to me. Where's my mother? I peered around and didn't see her. Did she have to leave to hide her elation?

"Um, your name?" Cecilia brought me back to reality. I jumped at the sound of her voice shattering my silence.

"Sorry, Sage Grey."


	4. Chapter 4

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"Splendid! Time for the boys!" She cheered and frolicked to the boy's bowl. I stood still, my eyes darting in each direction searching for any trace of Mother, but with no luck. Cecilia delicately selected a piece of paper and carefully opened it, revealing the name written in dainty handwriting. "Damon Woods!"

I've heard that name before. It's a boy from my school, I'm sure. It's hard to say considering I don't have much of a relationship with anyone in this district, but I've definitely heard his name. My eyes easily darted to where he was standing when the people started backing away from him, giving an easy opening for him to walk up. He hesitantly made his way to the stage.

From a distance, I could tell that he was well built and very muscular, probably from chopping would all day. I'm almost positive that he was training to be a lumberjack just as every other male in this district. As he got closer, I could make out details. His black hair shined in the harsh sunlight. He walked up the steps to the stage keeping his gaze low but as he passed by me, our eyes met for a split second, and I was taken back by how piercing his blue eyes were, staring back at me with pain and fury. For a second I froze, almost frightened by his look.

I thought hard for a second about who he was at school. Then I remembered. He's very quiet and reserved, always sitting in the back of the classroom. I've seen him a lot actually, because I'm always in the back avoiding people as well. What I remember is that girls went crazy over him and I heard whispers of his name all of the time. I never took much of an interest in boys because of me it as a waste of time. I had bigger issues to deal with. Damon almost seemed like he felt the same because I never saw him show an interest in any of his admirers. His expression always seemed distracted, and always deep in thought.

"Here are our District 7 tributes! Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor! Now shake hands!" She turned us by the shoulder to face each other. Once again our eyes met intently, and we slowly grabbed hands, until I caught him staring in disgust at a nasty cut on my hand and I quickly pulled away out of embarrassment.

I took one last look out at the crowd, and at the district that I grew up to know and hate. The I felt Cecilia firmly grasp my arm and pull me into the Justice Building.

I was shoved into a small cramped room in the Justice Building. Rumors have said that its a room to say goodbyes in. But who would say goodbye to me?

I sat in silence for a moment admiring the classy and expensive furniture that used to decorate the small room, then jumped when I heard the door slowly creep open. I almost fainted when my eyes saw her. My mother stood teary eyed in the doorway, ready to say her final good bye to me.

I was frozen in fear. "You've got 3 minutes." and I heard the Peacekeeper slam the heavy door behind him. Once the coast was clear, she glared at me for a few seconds through her fake tears. The silence got so uncomfortable I had to drop my gaze. She lounged forward at me and grabbed around my skinny wrist, her grip getting tighter every second.

"Have you learned nothing? Look at me!" She hissed.

I could feel the circulation being cut off of my wrist, but the more I tried to pull away, her grasp became firmer. I could feel the excruciating pain of her finger nails digging into my fragile wrist. Small quiet whimpers escaped me.

"You're pathetic." She smirked, and with that she threw me on the ground by my wrist, and I collapsed on the floor. I could hear her chuckling at my pain.

"You really thought you could get away from me didn't you? Well guess what?" She inched closer to me and pressed her face right up to my nose. My first instinct was to back away but she grabbed my head and pressed it against hers and in the slightest whisper she answered,

"You will never escape me." The pure sound of It ran shivers up my spine.

"No matter how hard you try, you'll never forget me. I'll always be there, terrorizing your dreams, or haunting you by day. Your life may turn out perfect, but trust me, I'll make sure I can shatter your happiness."

"Your times up"

I breathed a huge sigh of relief as Mother released her grip on my head and tried to begin crying again. Unexpectedly, she threw her arms around me and started sobbing on the spot! I tried to pull away but she discretely dug her long nails into my back so I would play along. My face got hot as my blood boiled from my Mother's facade. She has everyone fooled at this point, and there's nothing I can do about it. I felt tears in my eyes out of frustration but tried to hide them so no one would mistake it for something that it wasn't.

Cecilia was ranting and raving about how fabulous and wonderful the Capitol would be while we were piled into a small black car to drive to the train station. But I couldn't any pay attention. What my mother said kept echoing in my head. "You'll never escape me." As much as I didn't want to admit it, she was right, I can't escape her. All of my thoughts were redirected to my mother. I will never be able to escape the bad memories, the nightmares, and the scars she's left on me. I will always be constantly reminded of all of the hardships I've been through. The only way out of this is death, and I hope it comes soon.

"We've arrived!" Cecilia cheered. I peered over at Damon who's been silent for the entire ride except for occasionally sniffling. I'm positive he had been crying because when I caught a glimpse of his face it was blotchy and swollen. He tried his best not to anybody.

Cecilia motioned us into the huge silver train. I stood in awe at how beautiful and shiny it was. Once I stepped inside, I found out that the interior was even more outstanding. Looking around I saw silver leather seats, perfectly carved mahogany tables, and the room was furnished to perfection with ivory walls with a polished wood floor, and bright lime green curtains. What really got my attention was the delectable banquet that stood in front of me. It was more food than I've seen in a lifetime! An assortment of different kinds of breads, muffins, bagels, and scones! It was like a marvelous dream come true. I couldn't conceal the huge smile that crept on my face. It truly was worth volunteering.

I stared in amazement until I felt Damon's glare on me and quickly glanced over at him. He looked to me in disgust and retreated to one of the leather seats and faced the window. Then I came back to reality. It's probably not normal for people to get this excited over bread a few weeks before they die.

I let out a sigh and walked over to where Damon sat, slumped over in the leather seat next to the window.

"Are you okay?" I asked hesitantly, unsure of what to say. I don't usually talk to people at all, but I wanted to see if I could help.

"What do you care?" He replied coldly, keeping his gaze out the window.

"I don't understand..."

"Look, why don't you just leave me alone and stuff your face because you clearly care about food more than your own mother."

What was he talking about? "Wait, what?"

"What do you mean, what? After you volunteered your mom was in hysterics! She nearly tried to kill herself, and if it wasn't for my dad and a few peacekeepers being right there, she wouldn't be alive right now." He snapped.

I couldn't even believe my ears, hearing that my mother would go to that extent to keep up this charade. I was also furious that he would judge me so harshly without even knowing who I was.

"You don't know me! You don't even understand!" I yelled out of frustrated. He didn't have the right to judge me without knowing the whole story. He then stared right into my eyes, his blue eyes narrow and piercing.

"Oh, don't I? Why don't you tell me then." He demanded.

I couldn't. Not yet, at least. I've never told anyone my secret, and have never really planned to. Damon's response was too risky for me. I didn't want to take the chance, and seeing how judgmental he was now, who knows how he would respond to this. No, I can never tell him. I just stared back at him, awkwardly, and speechless.

"That's what I thought." He huffed, then went back to staring out the window in silence. I stared back at him for a second, dumfounded at what had just ocurred. I could feel a lump begin to form in my throat, but tried to pull myself together at least until I walked away. Through the silence, I made my way to another cart in the train to get away from him. That was the first and last conversation that I ever want to have with Damon Woods.


	5. Chapter 5

After Damon had completely ripped me apart, I retreated to a lone leather seat in a corner, rested my feet on the table in front of me, and stared out the window at the gloomy rainfall, still fuming from what Damon had said to me.

Just when I got comfortable in the little booth, I heard the train door slide open, and footsteps coming towards me, which quickly made my head turn. Then there she was, our mentor Johanna Mason. there's not much that I know about her, but what I do know is that she is brutal. But that she is also very cunning.

She stood in the doorway of the train cart with her dark brown hair slicked back in a ponytail, and she motioned to me, her eyes cold and narrow.

"Come over here you guys." She motioned both me and Damon to the dining table in the cart next to us. As she sat down to join us at the table, she let out a sigh and started by saying,

"Well, congratulating you would be useless. I know how you feel, I've been in your position."

"Well, I don't think all of us feel the same here." Damon cut in sarcastically. He then lifted his head toward me and gave me a glare. He obviously hasn't calmed down yet.

"What do you mean?" Johanna asked impatiently, clearly not amused by Damon cutting her off.

"I mean, that Sage volunteered for this so she clearly doesn't need your sympathy." Damon spit at me, keeping his glare directly on me with his arms stiffly crossed.

"What is your problem?" I snapped at him, sick of his attacks on me. From the look on Damon's face, he seemed taken back that I had actually snapped back at him, but recovered his composure soon enough.

Johanna's eyes narrowed with a glimmer of interest, and turned her attention over to me.

"So, why did you volunteer?" Johanna asked intrigued.

I turned my attention to Johanna breaking my stare with Damon and my confidence began to crumble.

"I.." My mouth initially opened to answer but something inside me froze. I couldn't answer. Sure, answering would undue the mess that had been made through all of these lies, but how was I supposed to approach the subject? I convinced myself that now wasn't the time, so I just closed my mouth and awkwardly pulled my hair behind my ears. Soon the silence began to get uncomfortable, and I could feel the frustration rising in both of them.

"Still not talking? Fine, I'll answer. She volunteered because she's selfish. What's wrong, Sage? Couldn't handle sitting alone at lunch, so you had to commit suicide in the worst way possible? How could you ever voluntarily put your mother through something like this? She was willing to kill herself because of her love for you. It's bad enough she had to go through this once with your sister." Damon unnecessarily exploded on me, arms flailing and his eyes locked onto mine.

He had crossed the line. I could feel my blood boiling within me and my cheeks turned hot with anger. Through my frustration, I raised from my seat and got right into Damon's smug face.

"So you think it's okay to sit here and make false judgements over things you don't even know about? You don't know me, Damon. And you sure as hell don't know anything about my family or where I came from!"

I had gotten to the point of shouting and had almost been taken back by the volume my voice had gotten to. Screaming at home would surely give me a harsh slap in the face, but I wasn't at home. I was finally free to do what I wished.

"Well then tell me! I just want to know why you would ever want this." He replied coldly.

The ball was in my park again, and this time I didn't have a good answer.

"I can't!" I swung my hands in the air, feeling completely defeated.

What could I do now?

"Why not?" He demanded, still adamant for an answer.

That was enough for me. There was no getting through to Damon without blowing my whole secret. Completely stuck on what to say next, tears began to blur my vision and before they had a chance to fall, I stormed out of the room into the farthest cart in a blind rage and slumped over in the leather seats.

Once I was safely alone, the salty tears began rolling down my face and falling into my lap. As I angrily wiped the tears away from my face, I could feel my head begin to pound so I gently laid my heavy head against the cool glass window. Letting my eyelids fall, I tried to push away the utter embarrassment I had felt and focused on the sound of the rainfall outside, which soothed my troubled mind.

Damon bringing up the subject really bothered me and stuck in my brain for awhile. My heart ached for Rose, wishing more than ever that she was here with me, but I just kept telling myself that we would be reunited soon once the games start and I am killed.

As the night grew darker, I must've fallen asleep once or twice because when I was awakened for real, I could see the sun only slightly peeking through the gloomy sky. I sat myself up from the leather chair and was surprised that no one had come to get me from the night before. I could feel the joints around my neck ache from sleeping so uncomfortably which I began to massage out. The awful headache that I had gotten the night before still hadn't subdued, which bothered me to a point where I was unable to fall back to sleep. After taking a few moments to rub away at my eyes and massage the knots from my neck, I got up from the booth and curiously wandered around the dark train carts to find a clock. After figuring out how to slide the metal door open to the next cart, I was momentarily shocked seeing a shadowy figure sitting on the couch in front of me. The a wave of anxiety welled over me when I saw Damon snap his neck around.


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm sorry." I whispered trying not to create conflict.

"I just wanted to check the time." My eyes were trying to avoid his.

"It's a little after four." He replied in a much more relaxed tone.

Puzzled by his response, I lifted my head and stared into his eyes only to see him deeply studying my face. I then quickly looked away, embarrassed, realizing that he knew that I've been crying the night before.

"Are you okay?" He then asked slightly concerned.

"What do you care?" I said mocked coldly, not willing to continue the conversation.

The corners of his lips went up very slightly, as he recalled our earlier conversation. I was repulsed by his response and rolled my eyes with anger.

"Wait, you think it's funny what you said to me?" I snapped at him, breaking the silence of the night.

Without even acknowledging what I had said, he disregarded it and kept his expression light.

"Come here, sit down." He motioned me over to the seat on the couch, next to him.

Hearing his response, I was taken back, but I hesitantly walked over to him and sat down.

"Look, I'm not in the mood for your criticism." I started before he could get another word in.

"Right," he replied, keeping his eyes down at his lap. Something was troubling him, which I curiously waited to hear about.

"So, when I was about 10, my mom died from leukemia in the middle of the winter. A few weeks after Christmas, actually. My family was already struggling financially, having four kids in the family and paying for her hospital bills, so times were tough. My father, no matter how much wood he split, couldn't keep up with the money and caring for the kids, so I had to step in and kind of be the new mother. I started to do almost everything, like split the wood for money, clean the house, and take care of the kids. It was a lot of work, but I knew that my mom would want me to keep going for her. Besides, when I see those kids' faces, that's really the only reward I need. I know it sounds corny but, I love all of them so much, I would do anything for them. But, when I got picked for the games, all I could think about was my family. What were they going to do?" His voice started to trail off in a quiver, which he then quickly tried to disguise. "So, when I had to say goodbye to them, I felt as if my heart had been ripped out, seeing the tears in their eyes. And when I saw my father, I just lost it. Sure, the boys are older, but they need me. Not just as a provider, but we need each other to get us through the day. I didn't want to put them through another loss." He paused for a second to steady himself again. I could tell that speaking of his family like this pained him, so I stayed silent to let him have a moment.

"I guess it really bothered me when you acted as if you didn't care. It's like, how could you volunteer to leave your family like that? Mine is everything to me. This is really weird, but, I almost envy you, that you can detach yourself so easily from your old life and enjoy everything here. But, the more I thought about it, I realized that there had to be a reason you left home like that. I don't think people would do that for nothing. You were right, I don't know you. Look, what I'm trying to get at is that I'm really sorry. And that it was wrong of me to assume things about you."

I stood there shocked that Damon Woods had actually apologized to me, and felt that I had no choice but to accept it.

"It's okay." I answered, slightly confused and not fully trusting his honesty. There had to be a reason he apologized because he didn't have to.

"Well now you know my story, so what's yours?" He asked, a sense of eagerness in his voice. So that's why he apologized. To guilt me into spilling my secret. As much as I didn't want to tell him, at this point I felt obligated to tell him the truth now. It crossed my mind that he would try to use my information against me somehow in the games, but I have dirt on him too, so I don't see how this would help him too much. Maybe he is being sincere, and maybe I should trust him. But, it's hard to reveal my secret, I've never spoken of it to anyone except for Rose.

I took a moment to collect me thoughts, and breathed in deeply. Then I looked Damon straight in the eyes, who was waiting for my answer.

"Well there's a lot. I don't even know where to begin." I stalled, trying to avoid the subject with no success.

"Start at the beginning." He suggested slightly impatient. I took in another long deep breath to calm my rising nerves and began to speed through it. "Okay, fine. So, ever since I was little, my mother has hated me. Actually, I wasn't even supposed to be born, I was like a mistake. So, since I was the second born, Mother treated my sister Rose better than me, which wasn't too bad compared to what happened after Rose died...Most of the hate she has for me, is because she truly believes that it's my fault that Rose died...that I killed Rose."

I took a moment to drop my gaze with Damon, feeling sorrow after speaking of my sister. The impact of saying that I killed my sister out loud truly began to sting in my heart.

"But, after Rose died, things changed. Mother did things to me.." My brain began to search for the right words for this kind of situation. I took a long silent pause as I tried to explain myself.

"What kind of things?" Damon asked, falling impatient.

"Maybe it would be easier to show you." I told replied as I hesitantly pulled up the tight yellow sleeves on my yellow reaping dress, revealing the different shades of purple that covered different sections of my arms, along with a few scars from the deeper of cuts I had received. As I somewhat regained my crumbling composure, my eyes looked to Damon's, whose face was twisted with shock. I had tried to brace myself as well as I could for his response but no matter how much I prepared, it still stung from his lack of comfort, and I felt tears begin to blur my vision, which I quickly tried to conceal by turning away my head.

"So now you know." I felt as if I didn't have to say much more from there. I let him take in the sight of my arms for a few more moments, then dropped my arms to my side, feeling slightly embarrassed from the unexpected silence. As I wiped away a few stray tears that began to streak my cheeks, I let my eyes wander over to Damon who was still awkwardly standing there, mouth slightly opened, and stunned. Out of my embarrassment I began to feel resentment towards Damon that after spilling every secret I had to him, he had nothing to say. I just shook my head disappointed.

"I knew it was a mistake telling you." I snapped at him, breaking the silence. His daze was broken and he began shaking his head in a panic, stuttering something I couldn't make out. Without listening I turned myself around and began to stomp out of the room.

"Sage, wait!" Damon pleaded, and I quickened my pace slightly, hearing footsteps trailing behind me, but as my hand reached the door of the cart I felt a hand tightly grip around my wrist.

"Hey!" I swung the back of my hand across his face, forcing him to release his grip. I heard a grunt of pain as he wobbled backwards.

The bruise was still tender from my final goodbye with Mother and the way he grabbed me flashed me back. But once I heard his pain, I was brought back to reality and stared blankly at Damon's red cheek.

"Oh my gosh," Both of my hands covered my mouth in utter shock of what I had done. Regaining balance, Damon's hand softly rubbed the now reddened area of his cheek as his eyes narrowed in pain. I felt fear in the pit of my stomach of how he would react, and as I stood there frozen, I could feel more tears trickle down my pale cheeks onto my fingertips.

"I-I'm so sorry," I stuttered, feeling my voice quiver slightly.

His head snapped back to face me and his deep blue eyes stared into mine, puzzled by my fear. He dropped his gaze, once again unable to speak, but this time opened up his arms and slowly walked towards me.

"It's okay, Sage." His voice was gentle and lowered into a hush whisper as he gingerly put his heavy arms around my crippled body. I instinctively attempted to pull away from him, but he squeezed me tighter, making escape impossible. As my muscles relaxed, I was almost happy he didn't let me go, because the tighter he hugged me, the more comfort I felt.

"It's okay, Sage." I heard a crack in his voice this time, and it sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. I remembered that I wasn't the only one hurting. Suddenly, it felt as if the walls I had been building around myself for so many years was crumbling down, and I began crying harder, almost at the point of it being out of my control. He held me tighter, and brushed his fingertips through the strands of hair that fell out of my messy blonde braid. I buried my face in his chest and let the tears roll down as I closed my eyes. The whole scene was like a dream. I hadn't felt someone hug me like this since, Rose.

We stood there in silence while we put ourselves back together, and as the volume of cries ceased, all that was left was the sound of sniffling. Once I had calmed myself enough to stop crying, I felt his grip on me loosen and I felt his chest pull away from my head.

But, then he paused. Puzzled, I let my eyes lift to find his, but instead I felt the pressure of his lips against my forehead. Once I felt his lips touch, I froze unable to move and not knowing what to do. Instead, I took in the moment, and felt his soft lips pull away.

I quickly wiped away any tears left on my cheeks with my sleeve and brushed the hair out of my face to try and clean myself up. Damon quickly turned away from me now as he tried to conceal himself rubbing at his eyes. The air soon turned awkward though, not really understanding what happened between us just then. Damon awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, and I just stood there nervously fiddling with my fingers.

"Um, do you know where my room is? I'd rather not sleep in a booth." The sound of my voice startled him as he turned around and avoided my eye contact.

"Yeah, I'll show you." He replied, and motioned his hand for me to follow him. We walked in silence as we went through a few train carts until we reached my small cabin.

"Goodnight," He said awkwardly, and before I had a chance to return the gesture, he was gone.


End file.
